


enough, for now

by spilled_notes



Series: love is a promise [2]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Episode Tag, F/F, Reunion, Sabbatical, go ugly early, it's only love if it hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-10-19 16:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: They sleep tangled together until Serena leaves. Serena won't make any promises, and Bernie won't pressure her - even though with every breath she longs to beg her to stay, to come back, to say that she'll still love her. Instead they just hold each other tight, until it's time to let go.





	1. enough, for now

They go to bed wrapped in each other that night. Bernie hadn’t wanted to. If she held Serena – held her properly, not just her hand – she wasn’t sure she’d be able to let her go. Wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep from begging her to stay.

But Serena had asked, a quiet word and an imploring look, and Bernie couldn’t say no. Especially not now she knows their time together is limited, not now she knows Serena is leaving.

_But she’s given you hope. Which is more than you gave her._

*

They sleep pressed together, and Bernie’s tears fall silently onto Serena’s hair, Serena’s pillow. Serena doesn’t call her out on them, even though she must be able to hear the ragged wetness of every breath. She just squeezes Bernie’s hand tighter, lifts their joined fingers to wet, trembling lips and kisses them again and again, holds them there as they fall asleep.

*

They wake still tangled together, to the harshness of morning light and Bernie’s alarm. Bernie’s heart aches at the thought of all the mornings she’s going to wake up alone, and tears spring to her eyes all over again. She hastily disentangles herself, presses a kiss to Serena’s shoulder and dives into the shower, hides her tears under its steady stream and tries to regain control.

‘I do love you, you know,’ Serena says as she watches her dress.

‘I know,’ Bernie replies, unable to look at her.

‘I just– I need to do this.’

‘I know,’ she repeats, even as she squashes down the screaming voice inside that wants her to fall to her knees and plead with Serena to stay. Because she _does_ know, knows what it’s like to need to be away and alone, has run away to find herself so many times. She fiddles with her cuffs, then can’t put off turning around any longer.

Serena’s eyes are glassy too but there’s a serenity to her now and Bernie smiles at it, at her.

‘I know,’ she repeats again, sitting on the bed and reaching for both of Serena’s hands. ‘And I love you too.’

‘I don’t expect you to wait for me,’ Serena says. ‘Hope isn’t much to live on.’

‘It’s plenty,’ Bernie replies, gaze fixed on Serena’s. ‘It’s more than I gave you,’ she adds with a tilt of her head, and draws a smile from Serena.

‘But still.’

Bernie kisses Serena’s fingers, kisses each in turn and then enfolds them in hers again. ‘I love you,’ she says seriously. ‘I love you and I will be here – in a week, a month, six months, a year. I won’t put any pressure on you, but if I still have a place in your life, in your heart, then I’ll be here.’

Serena smiles, then tugs her down and hugs her tight, buries her face in the crook of Bernie’s neck and breathes her in. ‘I won’t make any promises, darling. I can’t.’

‘I know, love. I don’t expect you to.’

‘But you’re one of the best things that has ever happened to me,’ she murmurs.

‘And you to me,’ Bernie whispers against Serena’s hair.

‘You should go to work,’ Serena says eventually.

Bernie nods but doesn’t move until Serena draws back. Her eyes are wide and dark, her brow furrowed, and Serena frees one hand to stroke her cheek.

‘I’m not leaving today,’ she reassures her. ‘I’m not going to slip away without a plan.’

‘Of course you aren’t,’ Bernie smiles, but Serena can see relief flooding every muscle. ‘You are the organised one, after all.’

‘I do like a good plan,’ Serena agrees.

When they kiss goodbye (and Bernie tries so hard not to think of that _other_ goodbye, looming in the not so distant future) it’s soft and tender and lingering, and after these terrible months Bernie can finally feel something of _her_ Serena.

She doesn’t say it again, even though she feels it in every cell of her body, even though she thinks it with every breath. Doesn’t say _please come back, please come back to me, please still love me when you’ve found yourself and you’re happy again._

*

They sleep holding each other every night until Serena leaves. The night before, they don’t sleep until the sky is paling with dawn, spend the hours kissing and touching and loving, trying to drink their fill to get them through the time apart, time they both know Serena needs but that doesn’t make it any easier.

In the morning, when they wake after a scant few hours, they gravitate closer again, skin against skin, desperately trying to commit every inch of the other to memory. Keep their eyes open against tiredness and tears so as not to lose a single moment, a single snapshot, a single precious image to hold on to. Kiss and kiss and kiss until their lips are swollen and rough. Make love slowly, tenderly, every movement measured and deliberate. Hold each other tight as, crying and smiling, they come together, as they murmur their love into soft, warm skin.

*

They hold each other even tighter at the station, just this side of the ticket barrier, as far as Bernie can go with her.

‘I hope you find what you want, what you need,’ Bernie says.

‘So do I,’ Serena replies.

 _Please come back to me, please still love me_ , hangs, unspoken, in the air between them.

They’re both crying, their voices cracking, make no attempt to hide how hard this is. Even though there isn’t enough of Serena’s heart left intact to break at leaving Bernie it still hurts. But she also feels lighter than she has since Ellie died, feels for the first time like she might be able to get through this, to come out the other side whole and able to rebuild her life. _Their_ life.

Bernie can see it – all of it – in Serena’s eyes. Can see everything she’s said and everything she hasn’t, everything she feels and fears and hopes.

The train pulls up to the platform.

 _British reserve be damned,_ Bernie thinks, crying silently into Serena’s hair as they hold each other one last time.

‘Let me know you’re there safe?’ she manages unsteadily.

Serena nods, presses their lips together once, twice, three times, gripping Bernie’s fingers so tight it hurts. ‘Maybe you could– could meet me half way?’

‘When you’re ready,’ Bernie smiles, ‘there’s nothing I’d like more.’

‘I love you,’ she says, her eyes fixed on Bernie’s.

‘I love you too.’

One last kiss, then. One last squeeze of their hands. And then Serena pulls away from her almost sharply and Bernie knows it’s because that’s the only way they’ll manage to let each other go.

She doesn’t look back until she’s lifted her suitcase onto the train and stepped up after it. Even from here Bernie can see the tears on her cheeks but Serena is smiling too, holds out her hand and waves, waits for Bernie to wave back before she disappears into the carriage.

Bernie watches the blurry train out of sight, then blinks her eyes clear enough to find her car. Inside she sits, smiles and then sobs when she sees the packet of tissues Serena had the foresight to leave on the passenger seat. She pulls out one to blow her nose, another to wipe her cheeks, another and another, until the whole packet is used up.

No more tears for now, then.

So a deep breath and a sigh, and she delves inside herself to find the strength she needs to get through this first day apart.

*

Two hours later she’s sat working at Serena’s desk when her phone lights up with a message: ‘Bloody train’s broken down. What a start! x’

Bernie smiles, replies: ‘Hope they’ve got plenty of Shiraz on board to keep you from rioting ;) x’

And then she spies Morven coming to find her, quickly types another message: ‘Check the front pocket of your case, something there that might help. Have to go, keep me updated x’

When she finally makes it back after emergency surgery it’s to find a series of texts detailing Serena’s dwindling patience with public transport and then, finally, the progress of her journey. In amongst them is a photo message, a selfie of a grinning Serena holding a pain au chocolat and a train coffee.

‘Coffee mediocre, pastry excellent,’ the accompanying text reads. ‘Thank you x’

*

Bernie sleeps wrapped in Serena’s cardigan. And it’s enough, for now. Enough to make her cry again. Enough to conjure Serena’s arms around her, Serena’s warmth against her as she falls asleep.

*

In another city, another country, Serena sleeps wrapped in Bernie’s hoodie. And it’s enough, for now. Enough to remind her of what she has, of what she hopes she will return to. Not what she’s doing this for – this is for _her_ , and her alone – but what waits for her on the other side, when she works out how to be happy again, how to be _her_ again.


	2. aphelion/perihelion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the point in a planet’s orbit at which it is furthest from/closest to the sun.

 

A week after Serena leaves, the first postcard arrives for Jason. He brings it into work and shows it to Bernie, beaming, and Bernie feels happy-sad, disappears into her ( _their_ ) office once he’s off the ward and has to take a few deep breaths before she can get on with her day.

There’s a postcard every week, not quite as regular as clockwork but Serena had warned Jason that it would depend on the postal service and he seems content with this. He pins them all on a big noticeboard, hangs this on his bedroom wall, plots the locations shown by each on a map and tracks Serena’s journey.

After a few weeks Bernie catches sight of a postcard on Hanssen’s desk, the colourful edge just visible beneath a neat stack of files.

After a month one arrives on AAU, is passed around the team and then pinned up in the break room, soon to be joined by others. Bernie doesn’t read them – they’re not meant for her – but she’s relieved to see Serena starting to mend bridges with their colleagues, relieved that she’s ready for some sort of contact with them.

Bernie doesn’t receive any postcards; she gets letters instead. Some are only a few sentences, others page after page. Some are stained – the earliest ones (and some later ones, too) with tears, others with drops of wine, rings of tea or coffee where Serena rested her mug on the page, some with buttery fingerprints or smudges of chocolate. She keeps them in a shoebox, from a pair of shoes (leopard print, of course) Serena bought on one of the outlet trips she dragged Bernie on before Christmas, files them far more carefully than she’s ever filed anything else.

Sometimes there’s a return address. Bernie always replies, tries to match the length and depth of Serena’s letters as best she can, tries to be what she thinks Serena needs her to be at each moment in time. Sometimes, when Serena doesn’t know how long it’ll be until she moves on, doesn’t know where she’s going next, there’s no return address. Bernie still replies regardless, files the folded sheets neatly at one end of the box. Sometimes, if it seems right, she slips them into the envelope along with her next letter. Sometimes they stay in the box and Bernie wonders if Serena will ever read them or if, when she returns, she won’t want to be reminded of the painful journey she’s taken.

*

Serena calls Jason once a week, the only fixed point in her existence, the only unbroken tether to the life she’s left behind. Bernie doesn’t know what they talk about; the only things Jason ever tells her are where Serena called from and that she asked after Bernie.

‘I think she thinks you aren’t always honest because you want to protect her,’ he says matter-of-factly one week over lunch in Pulses. ‘And she knows I won’t lie so she asks me instead.’

Bernie smiles and tells him that his Aunt is right, mulls over his suggestion that he thinks Serena would prefer her to be honest and engages in a mental tug of war. She finally decides that Jason is right, that she hurt Serena with lies meant to protect her enough before – has hurt plenty of people in her life by lying to protect them – and resolves to tell her the truth from now on.

Serena keeps no phone appointment with Bernie; she never promised to, and Bernie doesn’t expect her to. Bernie gives her space, never starts a conversation, never calls, is never the first to text, always lets Serena decide when she wants to talk. Always answers when she does, the sound of Serena’s voice bittersweet, making her heart leap and her eyes fill every time.

The next time she calls, the next time she asks Bernie how she is, Bernie takes a deep breath before answering. ‘Can I be honest?’ she asks.

‘Always,’ Serena promises, and Bernie can picture the tilt of her head, the softening of her eyes.

‘I miss you so much,’ Bernie confesses. ‘Trying to keep AAU running to something close to your standards is the only thing that gets me up in the morning.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Serena whispers, her voice hoarse.

‘That’s why I didn’t tell you – haven’t told you. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems too.’

‘We’re in this together,’ Serena says, quiet but firm. ‘Even if– even if I can’t be with you right now.’

‘Together?’ Bernie asks, tremulous.

‘Yes, darling. If– if that’s what you want?’

‘Yes,’ Bernie replies, before Serena has finished asking. She feels hope flare in her chest, so strong that it almost hurts. ‘I’ll be here,’ she promises.

‘I know,’ Serena says. ‘I wish I could hold you.’

‘Just imagine. Pull my hoody around you and imagine it’s my arms.’

‘I wish I was ready to come back,’ Serena says quietly, her voice rough with unshed tears.

‘So do I. But until you are remember that I’m thinking of you, that I go to bed every night imagining holding you, that I love you.’

‘I will,’ Serena promises. ‘I love you. And Bernie? I will be ready, just not yet.’

Now Bernie’s chest does ache, and her ribcage doesn’t feel large enough for her heart. ‘I’ll be here,’ she chokes out again. ‘Whenever that is, Serena, I’ll be here.’

*          *          *

Meeting halfway turns into a long weekend in Sorrento at the beginning of June – not quite where Serena’s aborted holiday with Ellie should have been, but close enough that Bernie knows why she’s there without her saying. Serena asks, both nervous and certain, and Bernie doesn’t check if she’s sure because she knows Serena wouldn’t have asked otherwise. She says yes immediately, without bothering to look at her diary, because she knows Ric will cover her for this if necessary, knows Hanssen will allow her the leave – not for her, of course, but because it’s Serena, because they both love Serena in their own way too.

When Serena picks her up they spend long minutes standing before each other, replacing memory with the real thing. Serena looks well – she’s regained some of the lost weight, is tanned by the sun, looks more content than Bernie has seen her all year. Her hair is now a greying pixie cut and it’s a shock because Bernie hasn’t seen her in so long, hadn’t known she’d changed her hair. She wonders what changes Serena sees in her, wonders how obvious the sleepless nights and long shifts and just how much she’s missed her are. And then Serena reaches out her hand, and Bernie takes it with a lump in her throat, barely manages not to sob, lets Serena pull her close and hold her, and clings to her just as tightly.

*

They go to bed and tangle together, shift and shuffle and elbow each other as they try to get comfortable after weeks of sleeping alone, after weeks of not being around each other, both let out a sigh of relief when they still fit just as well as before.

‘Better than my hoody?’ Bernie asks quietly, a little indistinct because her nose is buried in Serena’s hair.

Serena hums thoughtfully, and Bernie can feel her teasing smile against her collarbone; she tickles the dip of her waist in retaliation, delighting in the feel of Serena squirming against her and the soft laugh that bubbles from her throat.

Serena raises her head and gazes at Bernie seriously, her eyes sparkling with a happiness Bernie had worried she might never see again. ‘Much better, darling,’ she says, fingertips skimming Bernie’s temple and just barely tangling in her hair.

Bernie smiles, feels her mouth pull wide and smooths her palm up and down Serena’s side, fingers gently curling around her waist and pressing into soft flesh.

Serena brushes a kiss to Bernie’s lips and then settles again, laces her fingers between Bernie’s and closes her eyes. She smiles at the feel of Bernie’s nose nuzzling into her hair, Bernie’s lips against the top of her head, Bernie’s arms around her.

*

By morning they’re still close but have shifted so Bernie is spooning Serena, her front pressed against Serena’s back, her nose pressed into the nape of her neck, her arm wrapped around her waist. It’s how, Serena tells her sleepily, brushing clumsy kisses to Bernie’s knuckles, she’s been longing to wake up.

‘Me too,’ Bernie mumbles against her skin.

Serena must drift off again, because the next thing she registers is that the warm weight that had been pressed against her back is no longer there. For a moment she wonders if her treacherous mind conjured Bernie, if she’d just imagined her presence like she has every morning since she left. But surely she was too solid, too warm, too real for that?

She hears the flush of the toilet and rolls over in time to see Bernie come back in, rubbing sleep from her eyes, a bleary smile spreading across her face when she sees that Serena is awake, and Serena’s heart soars.

‘Hello you,’ she says, her voice warm and soft.

‘I hope you’re planning on coming back to bed.’

‘Why, have you got plans for me, Campbell?’ Bernie teases.

By way of answer Serena flings back the covers, sits up and holds a hand out to her. Bernie sits in front of her, their knees touching, cautiously reaches to cup Serena’s face in her hand, thumb stroking across her cheek.

‘I’ve missed you,’ Serena says, leaning closer and nuzzling her nose against Bernie’s.

‘Missed you too,’ Bernie replies, almost against Serena’s lips. But she leaves the final move to Serena, waits for her to close the tiny gap between them, responds as soon as she does so Serena can be in no doubt that Bernie still wants her like this. She kisses her tenderly, deeply, thoroughly, relishes every noise at the back of Serena’s throat, the upward curve of her lips, the way Serena’s fingers wind into her hair to keep her close.

Bernie wasn’t really expecting this to go anywhere, would be more than happy to just kiss Serena over and over for hours before venturing out into the town together. But Serena arches against her with a deeper moan, runs her hands down Bernie’s body and sneaks them under the hem of her pyjama top to trace across bare skin, and Bernie’s breath stutters and she can’t help arching into Serena too. When she opens her eyes it’s to find Serena gazing at her hungrily, her eyes dark and her lips kiss-swollen. Bernie mirrors Serena’s actions then slowly raises her top, presses open mouthed kisses up her sternum, across one breast, licks the flat of her tongue across her nipple and glances up as Serena groans, smiles wolfishly at the flush creeping across her cheeks.

The pause in her movements brings Serena back, makes her draw Bernie’s top up too. They separate enough to pull them off completely and then shuffle closer. Bernie thinks her heart might skip a beat it feels so good, kisses Serena slowly again, presses into her and feels Serena do the same.

‘I’ve missed this,’ Serena murmurs. She begins to kiss across Bernie’s jaw, down her throat, and Bernie throws her head back and groans softly, gasps at the gentle rasp of Serena’s teeth and the soothing heat of her tongue. ‘You taste so good, darling,’ she says between kisses and licks. ‘Not the only place I want to taste,’ she adds, her voice low, and Bernie feels it through her whole body.

‘Whatever you want,’ she manages. ‘Anything. God, Serena.’

Bernie half expects Serena to be a little rough, expects her desire and the time apart to make her rough, expects to feel teeth and nails. But although she pushes Bernie back onto the pillows firmly her lips and hands are tender as she makes her way down Bernie’s body, as she maps every inch of skin. When she reaches the waistband of her pyjama shorts Serena stops, her fingers grasping the fabric, glances at Bernie. Bernie responds immediately, lifts her hips from the mattress so Serena can strip her naked, watches through hooded lids as she removes the rest of her own clothes too. Then she crawls back up the bed, hovers just above Bernie and bends to kiss her, brushes her fringe from her forehead and holds her gaze, her eyes asking permission and Bernie’s granting consent.

Serena slinks down Bernie’s body again, kissing down her sternum, the centre of her stomach, smiling against the quivering muscles.

‘I can smell you from here,’ she almost growls, settling between Bernie’s spread thighs.

‘Please, Serena,’ Bernie whispers, sibilant and wavering. ‘Please.’

‘I’ve got you,’ Serena murmurs, her voice softening, one hand reaching up to grasp Bernie’s. With the other she touches her, feather light but it’s enough to make Bernie whine and tremble, her whole body taut. ‘Relax, darling,’ Serena says, her thumb rubbing across Bernie’s knuckles.

‘Easy for you to say,’ Bernie stammers. But she wills herself to soften against the mattress, is rewarded by another touch of Serena’s fingers and then the touch of her mouth, warm and wet even against the molten heat of her core. ‘Serena,’ she groans, and feels Serena smile against her. She tries not to tighten her grip on Serena’s fingers too much, twists her free hand in the bedsheets and grasps those hard instead. ‘Fuck, you’re good at this,’ she pants, whining a protest when Serena raises her head.

‘Haven’t lost my touch, then?’ she asks, smiling lasciviously.

Bernie shakes her head vigorously, then slams it onto the pillow when Serena sets to work again. She’s so close already, it’s hardly going to be any time before she comes but she can’t muster the strength to warn Serena, can’t get anything out but moans and whimpers and curses and Serena’s name.

Serena knows, though. She can feel how close Bernie is, wonders if she should slow down, if she should gentle her touch and steady her pace, but decides against it; she wants Bernie to fall apart on her tongue, wants it so desperately she could cry. Does cry when she feels the fluttering around the finger curled inside her, when she feels the rush of wet against her tongue, when Bernie squeezes her hand and shudders and moans her name with the low, rough voice she’s never heard anywhere other than in bed.

‘I’ve got you, Bernie,’ she croons, her cheek against Bernie’s thigh, stroking her gently as she shakes, relieved beyond belief that she can still do this, that grief and time and distance haven’t stolen this from her too. ‘I’ve got you,’ she repeats, pressing tender kisses to the soft, quivering skin of Bernie’s thigh. ‘It’s alright, love.’

Once Bernie falls still Serena slides up to lie curled into and over her, head in the crook of Bernie’s neck. She runs her palm across Bernie’s rib cage, the dip of her waist and the jut of her hip, and then to where her mouth had just been.

‘Can’t get enough of you,’ she murmurs as Bernie shudders and keens her name.

‘Don’t kill me just yet, will you?’ Bernie requests, between ragged gasps. ‘It’s just I – oh Serena – I want to make you feel like this too, I need to.’

‘Plenty of time for that,’ Serena reassures her, hand stilling for a moment. ‘Please let me, darling?’

‘I don’t think I could bear it if you stopped,’ Bernie admits, her voice strained.

‘Then I won’t,’ Serena says simply.

And she doesn’t.

*

Serena holds Bernie as she dozes, strokes her hair and her back and her arm, blinks back tears and feels her heart swell with just how damn lucky she is: that she and Bernie found each other at all, that they ever got together, that Bernie is still here. She presses her lips to the closest bit of skin she can reach, whispers her love into the silence and closes her eyes. She thinks she’s too aroused to sleep but soon drifts off too, the comfort of Bernie’s closeness too much to resist.

Bernie is gone again when Serena wakes up again. But this time she knows Bernie has definitely been in bed with her because she can still smell her, still taste her. When she rolls onto her back and stretches she dislodges a piece of paper, blinks to clear her eyes so she can read it:

‘Gone in search of coffee and food. Back soon. B x’

Serena is torn between gratitude, because she’s definitely in need of coffee, disappointment that Bernie will be properly dressed, and anticipation at the thought of getting to undress her all over again.

*

Bernie comes back to the sound of the shower running. For a moment she considers joining Serena but instead decides to wait for her, toes off her shoes and sits on the bed to sip her coffee. The shower stops, and a moment later the door opens and Serena steps out of the steam with a fluffy white robe wrapped around herself. Bernie freezes, coffee cup halfway to her mouth, can only stare. Serena smiles and flushes. Her hands move to the tie of her robe, but before she can undo it Bernie finds herself able to move again, is off the bed and across the room and untying it herself, slipping her hands inside to caress Serena’s soft, hot, damp skin.

‘Bernie,’ she breathes.

Bernie gently pushes her back against the wall, trails kisses down her neck and along her collarbones as her hands run across breasts, waist, hips. She raises her head so she can meet Serena’s eye as her hand sneaks lower between them, dances her fingertips across the inside of Serena’s thighs and feels her muscles quiver.

‘Bernie, please darling,’ Serena begs, one hand tangled in Bernie’s hair, the other gripping her shoulder, pushing her hips into Bernie’s.

‘I’ve missed you,’ Bernie murmurs, finally touching her.

Serena’s head tips back against the wall, a half sigh, half moan escaping her lips, one leg wrapping around Bernie’s waist as she tenderly strokes her. Soon it’s only Bernie’s strength keeping her from sliding to the floor, her entire body trembling under Bernie’s insistent, attentive touch, from the adoration in her eyes and the words of love and want she murmurs into Serena’s ear and against her skin.

*

‘You’re wearing far too many clothes,’ Serena murmurs as Bernie guides her to the bed.

Bernie smiles, strips to her underwear and slips under the covers, shuffles to press against Serena, to drape one arm around her waist and clasp her hand tightly. Serena smiles, hums in satisfaction and lets her eyes drift closed. She hasn’t been sleeping well, knows that Bernie hasn’t either and suspects this is already the most she’s slept for weeks; it doesn’t take long for both of them to be fast asleep again.

*

Later they do go out together, wander Sorrento hand in hand, sit beside each other and eat gelato as they gaze across the shimmering sea. The first thing Serena puts on, even before her underwear, is the necklace with Bernie’s grandmother’s ring on it. It rests on her black top, the gold and sapphire and diamonds glinting in the Italian sun; Bernie’s eye keeps being drawn to it, and her mind to the promise she made. She squeezes Serena’s hand a little tighter, walks a little closer so their arms brush. _I’ll be whatever you need,_ she silently vows, as Serena talks to her about Ellie, as she cries into her shirt and curls into her side, as they kiss and touch over and over, as Serena falls asleep in her arms.

*

Bernie doesn’t ask Serena if she’s coming home. She’s made her peace with this distance, at least a little, realises that Serena’s quest isn’t over yet. So when Serena asks, as she drops her off, if they can meet half way again Bernie smiles and nods. They both cry as they say goodbye, but this time Bernie’s heart doesn’t feel like it’s broken.


	3. hope fulfilled

Three nights after Bernie arrived – three days and nights of reacquainting themselves with each other, of kissing and touching, of talking and crying and, finally, laughing – they lie side by side between two rows of Shiraz vines, one blanket under them and another draped over them because for all that it might be August in the south of France there’s still a definite nip in the air. Their clasped hands rest on Serena’s thigh as they gaze up at the clear, starry sky, waiting.

‘Oh,’ Serena breathes when she sees the first streak of light.

‘Make a wish,’ Bernie murmurs, gaze dropping from the sky to rest on Serena’s face, just visible in the light of the rising moon.

Serena squeezes her hand tighter and Bernie’s almost certain she’s thinking of Ellie, of the one thing she desperately wants but that no wish on a falling star can ever return to her.

They lie in silence for a while, the sky gradually paling as the moon climbs higher but the meteors still visible as they trail through the atmosphere. Bernie thinks of how these beautiful glowing streaks are made up of cosmic debris, rubbish turned into glory for the briefest moment, thinks of how thanks to Serena her own mess of a life became bright again when their orbits collided. Of how that brightness faded with Serena’s but still burns strong within her, of how she cannot bear a life without Serena – of those breathless, terrifying moments when she imagined it and the dizzying relief when she saw Serena sat on the roof, drunk but safe.

‘Did you make a wish too?’ Serena asks quietly, her thumb stroking Bernie’s.

Bernie lets her head fall to one side to meet her eye, nods and smiles a little sadly because her biggest wish is exactly the same as Serena’s.

‘Don’t wish for that,’ Serena says softly, reading Bernie’s thoughts. ‘I know we both do but there’s no point, darling. She’s gone, and it hurts, but I’m learning to live with it – without her.’

‘I know. And I’m so proud of you for it.’

‘I couldn’t have got this far without you. Knowing you love me – I know I said it didn’t make me feel better but it did, Bernie. It does, every single day.’

Bernie doesn’t know what to say to this, settles instead for squeezing Serena’s hand, knows she got it right when Serena squeezes back and smiles.

They fall silent again, stare up at the moon and the stars and the sporadic meteors.

‘You’re all I’ve been able to think about,’ Bernie says quietly, eyes still fixed on the sky. ‘I mean work, obviously, but you, always. And I realised it doesn’t matter where we are in the world, whether or not we’re together. No, no it does,’ she corrects herself, frowning slightly. ‘I’ve missed you more than I can say, Serena. What I mean is, I know I’ll always feel bound to you, I’ll always return to you even if we have to be apart. That you’re home for me.’

Bernie looks at Serena now, finds Serena already gazing at her and feels her heart swell and something inside her fall into place – something that’s been lurking in the corners of her mind since her last patient in the trauma bay but is now startlingly clear, as pinprick sharp as the stars above them. She props herself up on one elbow and reaches for Serena, grasps the long chain around her neck and gently tugs until her grandmother’s ring, warm from being against Serena’s skin, is between her fingers.

Serena follows the gentle pull, pushes herself up so she’s sat facing her, so she can study Bernie’s face as Bernie studies the ring, her thumb rubbing over the stones. The moon is almost blazing, and the sapphire and diamonds glint brighter than the stars, brighter even than the burning meteors.

Bernie’s sure she ought to feel nervous but she doesn’t, instead feels absolutely certain – a pattern, she’s noticing now, of Serena being the one thing in her life she’s certain about, the one constant she wants and needs. _Very much the one._

‘I know I said I didn’t want to marry you,’ Bernie begins. ‘But–’

‘But that was then, and this is now?’ Serena guesses.

Bernie nods. ‘You’re it for me, Serena. I know it – I don’t know how, but I do.’ She looks up again, meets Serena’s eye and takes a breath.

‘Yes,’ Serena says, before Bernie has even opened her mouth.

‘I think generally questions are supposed to come before answers,’ Bernie teases.

‘Well then?’

Bernie cocks her head and pretends to consider, until Serena swats at her shoulder.

‘Will you marry me, Serena?’

‘Yes,’ Serena smiles, her eyes glittering almost as brightly as the diamonds, her hands rising to cup Bernie’s face. ‘Yes, my darling.’

As they kiss a fireball streaks across the sky, its trail tinged with blue. Bernie feels Serena’s tears splash onto her face, mingling with her own, tastes the salt but feels the curve of her smile.

‘I love you,’ she murmurs against Serena’s lips, dropping the ring so she can slide her hands into Serena’s hair. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’ she repeats, each declaration punctuated with another kiss.

‘I know,’ Serena says emphatically. ‘I love you too.’


End file.
